


Take a Chance - Lukanette September Week 1

by Quickspinner



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), College AU, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Love at First Sight, Lukanette, Lukanette September 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-06 06:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20502695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quickspinner/pseuds/Quickspinner
Summary: College AUIt all starts with a little mix-up. One look in her notebook and Luka is intrigued. One look in her eyes - and he’s in love.7 connected pieces for Lukanette September, Week 1





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t going to do the thing but then the first week of prompts lined up with something I had been kicking around, so here we go. I’m already a bit behind since I couldn’t make up my mind, but I’ll get there. Enjoy the ride.

Marinette didn’t get a lot of phone calls, and she never got calls in the middle of the day. She stumbled a bit as she tried to get her phone out and walk at the same time. The number on the screen wasn’t a known contact, but it looked familiar. Wasn’t that Juleka’s number? But then why wouldn’t it show up under Juleka’s name? Frowning, she answered the call, trying not to sound too breathless. “Hello?”

“Uh, hi, I’m looking for Marinette?” The voice was male, so, definitely not Juleka. 

“I’m Marinette,” she said cautiously. 

“Cool, I’m Luka, I’m Juleka’s brother? I think we might have met once a few months back.”

“O-oh,” Marinette stammered, confused. 

“Jules gave me your number because I have something of yours and I’m kinda hoping you have something of mine. A plain black notebook that basically looks exactly like yours, except mine has music inside instead of clothes. Sound familiar?”

“Oh gosh—um, hang on, let me check.” Marinette dug through her bag and pulled out her sketchbook. She flipped it open and her stomach dropped as she found that it wasn’t hers at all. It was full of music notations and scribbled notes that might have been song lyrics. “Yes, I have it,” she confirmed. “I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz. You live with Juleka right? I was over there this morning and I knocked over a stack of things and I thought I put it all back but I must have switched these. I hope you didn’t need it, I’m so sorry—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Luka said, soothingly, a touch of amusement in his warm voice. “As long as you have it, that’s fine. I do kind of need it tonight though, is there somewhere I can meet you and trade?”

“Um, let me think. I’m on my way to class now...it’s Tuesday, so my next break is at 3.”

“Okay, I’m in class until 3:30, but I could meet you right after? Um...there’s a coffee shop near the music building, do you know it? I can’t remember the name, but it has a red awning. I can meet you there after my class is over.”

“That sounds perfect,” Marinette agreed. “I know the place, I’ll meet you there.”

“Great.” Luka seemed to hesitate. “Okay, I hope this isn’t weird, but I was wondering if I could look at some more of your sketches? I only saw a few before I realized it wasn’t mine and found your name, but they looked really cool and I’m really curious to see the rest.”

Maybe it was a little weird, but it was also flattering. Marinette appreciated that he asked instead of just snooping through and not mentioning it. “Um, sure, there’s nothing really personal in it, just designs for one of my classes.”

“All art is personal,” Luka said easily, and then she heard someone calling to him. “Shit, you’re right,” he said, voice a bit distant before returning. “Marinette, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go before I’m late. I’ll see you a little after 3:30.”

“Okay, see you then,” Marinette replied, half expecting him to hang up before she finished speaking. 

Instead she heard, “See you soon, Marinette,” before the line cut out. 

* * *

Luka headed to the coffee shop with a quicker step than strictly necessary after escaping yet another boring, pedantic lecture from his least favorite professor. He hadn’t even heard half of it, fascinated by the book in his hand. He knew less than nothing about fashion in general and even less than that about the process of design, but there was so much life in the sketches covering the pages of the misplaced notebook. He couldn’t judge her talent, but Marinette’s passion was clear and he was curious about the girl behind the designs.

He found her easily enough, sitting in a booth facing the cafe’s entrance, his composition book placed prominently towards the edge of the table. For a moment, he felt disappointment. He wasn’t sure what he expected, and there was nothing wrong with her exactly, but...she didn’t really stand out, dressed in shades of pink and black, sweet but without any of the edge he’d seen in her art. 

But it wasn’t like him to judge on appearances and he silently berated himself as he made his way over to the table. “Marinette?”

Then she looked up and locked eyes with him, and the deep blue of the sea fell into the endless blue of the sky and he swore he heard music. 

* * *

Marinette had met Juleka’s brother once before, if you could call a hurried introduction and hello-goodbye a meeting, as he was rushing out to perform with his band. All she was really left with was the impression of blue, and lean muscles highlighted by body glitter.

She could see neither muscle nor glitter at the moment, but the blue was there, in his eyes and the tips of his shaggy hair. He wasn’t classically handsome but he had an interesting face, and she thought to herself that she’d like to dress him. It would be a nice change from cookie cutter models and he looked like he had a fun style. 

He smiled and gestured at the empty bench across from her. “I’m Luka. May I?”

“Oh sure, of course,” she said quickly, shuffling her things ineffectually before realizing there was plenty of room. He slid in across from her, sleepy eyes a deeper shade of blue than her own fixed on her. She blushed faintly without really knowing why and his eyes flicked away. 

“Thanks for meeting me,” he said. “I hope It wasn’t too far out of your way.”

“No, it wasn’t too far, and I’ve gotten some work done, so it’s all good. I’m so sorry about the mixup.”

He took her book out of his bag and slid it across the table towards her. “Thanks for letting me look at it. Way more interesting than my music theory class.”

“Oh,” Marinette blushed deeper. “A-are you interested in fashion?”

“No,” he admitted. “Honestly I never thought about it much, I just wear things that are comfortable and make me feel good. But I am interested in art, and I can see now that fashion is art too. So, thanks. For...a new perspective, I guess.”

Marinette couldn’t help smiling, there was something so sincere about the way he said it. He must have a really interesting way of looking at the world. 

Which maybe shouldn’t surprise her so much. Juleka was hardly known for conventional thinking. 

“I wish I could get as much from yours,” Marinette said, gesturing towards his notebook where it still lay on the table. “Not—not that I looked through it or anything, but just what I saw when I opened it, It’s only gibberish to me, I’m afraid.”

Luka smiled slowly. “You think so?” For a moment Marinette was afraid she’d insulted him, but he only took his notebook up and turned the pages for a moment. Then he laid it back down and turned it so she could see the open pages. “What do you see here?”

She looked, and at first it was only gibberish, as she’d said, a mix of notes and musical terms, with occasional notes that made sense but didn’t, like “dark, flash flood, drowning.” Marinette glanced up at Luka, who was watching her with a small smile on his face. She looked down at the page again, and this time she noticed the dark lines and deep grooves, the places where things were not just crossed out, but scratched through or scribbled black. The whole feel of the page was frustration, maybe even anger. “This,” she said slowly, looking up at him. “This was not a good day.”

Luka’s smile widened. “See? You can’t read the notes, but the feelings still come through. I felt the same way about yours.” Marinette slid the notebook back to him, smiling herself. “Can I ask you something?” Luka asked. “You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.” He gestured to her notebook again and she handed it back to him. He thumbed quickly through the pages until he found the one he wanted. He put it back down in front of her, watching her face. “What happened?”

The page was scribbled over with thick black marker lines, zigzagging across the dress that had been coming to life on the page. Beneath the thick scribbles, there were notes written around the sketch, some scratched out and some visibly messier than others. Marinette winced looking at it. “It couldn’t do what I wanted to,” she said, after staring at it for a moment. “It was...the dress wasn’t right for the concept, or the concept couldn’t be a dress at all, and the more I tried to fix it the more frustrated I got. Then my TA reviewed my work for the week and ripped me a new one over it, and...I just knew I wasn’t ever going to be excited over it again, so I scrapped it.”

She felt ashamed as she said it, like she was admitting she was a quitter, but Luka just nodded, as if she made perfect sense, then reached over and turned a couple of pages.

“Not that my opinion’s worth much, but this one was my favorite. It just has so much energy. It feels...hopeful. Like it’s waiting for great things to happen.” He glanced up at her, looking uncertain for the first time in their conversation. “I hope that came out right. I’m not always great at explaining things.”

Marinette just stared at him in wonder, a bright smile slowly spreading over her face. “No, I think you got exactly what I was thinking. It’s a first date dress, I mean, that’s what I was thinking when I made it.”

Luka nodded slowly. “Potential.”

Marinette beamed. “Yes, exactly.” She leaned on the table and put her chin on her fist, looking at him with renewed curiosity. He looked back for a minute, and then straightened abruptly.

“I think I’m going to get a drink, would you like anything?” Luka said, sliding from the booth.

Marinette blinked. “Um, yeah, that would be great. A cinnamon latte?” 

“Got it. Be right back.”

Marinette sat back as he walked away. 

He seemed nice.

* * *

_ Do you believe in love at first sight? _

He’d heard the question many times before, usually from people trying to pick him up after performances, but until now he’d been largely agnostic on the matter.  _ It could happen, but I’ve never seen it. _

Luka was a thorough believer now.

Of course he knew the term  _ coup de foudre _ but he’d never known it was so...accurate. He’d never experienced a shock to his system like the one he’d felt when he locked eyes with Marinette.

They were supposed to just exchange books and go on their way. He was bad at small talk, he knew it, but jumping into such an intimate conversation hadn’t been his intention either. He fervently hoped he wasn’t scaring her off. He knew his natural intensity could be off putting when he was too focused on a single person, and right now he was very, very focused on Marinette.

Luka ordered the drinks in to go cups, just in case. 

When he returned with the drinks he felt a bit better. Marinette looked more comfortable and relaxed, and made no move to flee once he set her drink in front of her. 

When he was back in his seat, Marinette surprised him, asking, “So, um, is music your major or just a hobby?”

“Music Ed, actually,” Luka replied, wrapping his long fingers around his cup. 

“Really? You want to be a teacher?”

Luka chuckled. “I’d like to be a musician and not starve. Honestly, I’d like to give private lessons so I can work one on one with the kids and still work on my own music.”

“I remember you play in a band,” Marinette said. 

“Yeah, we’re playing this weekend actually.” Luka rummaged in his bag for the stack of fliers, grateful for the opening. He pulled one out and handed it to Marinette. “I’d love for you to come.” Her eyes met his again and he felt that same shock run through his system. He wondered if she felt it too. 

He flexed his fingers, wishing for his guitar. 


	2. First Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wasn't here because she wanted to see him again. She was here because she was curious about the music and because Alya was always jumping to conclusions.

She wasn’t here because she wanted to see him again. He lived at Juleka’s, she could probably see him any time if she really wanted to. She was here because she was curious about the music and because Alya was always jumping to conclusions. As if he didn’t invite everyone he met to his concerts, what musician wouldn’t.

(“You said he said ‘I’d love to see you there,’ and that is not the same thing as ‘come hear my band, tell your friends.’”)

“So which one is he?” Alya yelled into Marinette’s ear.

“Guitar, on the left. Blue hair,” Marinette yelled back. 

Alya pulled back and eyed Luka up and down. She grinned back at Marinette and though Marinette couldn’t hear the word she saw Alya mouth “Nice!” 

At least it didn’t matter that Marinette was blushing in the multicolored lights flashing through the club. Luka did look good, clearly into his music, and clearly able to work his considerable stage presence. His playing was amazing, or at least, Marinette thought so. She didn’t know enough to say for sure, but the speed of his hands and the clarity of the music certainly impressed her. 

Alya nudged her in the ribs with her elbow, reminding Marinette to blink. Then Alya grabbed her arm and hauled her close again to scream, “He’s looking for you, girl!”

Marinette’s eyes shot back to Luka. She hadn’t noticed before, fixated as she had been on his hands, but every now and then he looked up and scanned the crowd. There was no way he was looking for her, though, in all these people. They’d only met the one time, and yeah, they’d talked for more than an hour, but that didn’t mean, and even if it did, could he even see through the lights? 

Alya must have been thinking the same thing, because she grabbed Marinette’s arm and started hauling her straight across the crowded dance floor towards the small throng of people in front of the stage. The bassist was starting a solo just as Alya elbowed them a spot. Luka was looking around again, over their heads at the moment, and then he looked down and straight at Marinette. 

Their eyes locked and Luka’s face lit up with a lopsided smile and suddenly Marinette couldn’t breathe. Alta jostled her triumphantly and Marinette didn’t need to hear the bellowed “I told you so,” that came with it. 

* * *

_ She came _ . Luka was so preoccupied with the thought that he nearly missed his cue. Jean slapped his shoulder mock-casually just in time for Luka to snap out of it and come in only half a beat behind. He was going to catch hell about that later, especially if Jean had noted the source of his distraction. 

He didn’t care, because she came. Luka took that extra shot of adrenaline the sight of her had dumped into his veins and channeled it into his music, trying not to look at her again until he had his head in the game. He slipped up when he had to pause to adjust the microphone in front of him for a song where he did background vocals. She was looking at him so he flashed her a grin, and got a shy smile in return. The next moment he glanced over to find Jean smirking at him and knew he’d been caught. 

“What the hell, Luka, you’re on fire tonight.” Evan grinned and offered him a fistbump as they came down off the stage for their break. 

“Yeah?” Luka replied casually, raising his fist to meet the drummer’s and trying to pretend his knees weren’t a little weak from the rush. 

“He’s got someone to impress out there tonight,” Jean grinned, hopping on the wobbly table in the makeshift green room with a bottle of water in his hand. “I saw you looking. Is it the cutie in pink or the curvy brunette? They were so close together I couldn’t tell.”

Luka considered his options, decided denial wouldn’t help him, and sighed. “Pink,” he admitted, and Evan, Simon, and Jean boys whooped and whistled. “Look, we just met,” he said as evenly as he could, digging in their cooler for some water. “I didn’t even know she was going to be here tonight.”

“But you were hoping,” Jean sing-singed. “You were looking for her.” He slid off the table and lightly punched Luka’s shoulder as he walked by. “Don’t sweat it, bro, we got your back.”

Luka frowned. “We’re gonna go play, and then I’m gonna go talk to her, and Jean, I swear if you make her uncomfortable—“

“Relax, relax, Luka, I know your style. We’ll just let your music do the talking, right?”

Luka eyed him suspiciously. “What are you plotting?”

Simon snorted. “As if Jean could ever come up with something complicated enough to be called a plot.”

“Man, we’re just excited for you. We thought you were married to your guitar,” Evan joked. 

Luka pressed his water bottle to his hot face and reflected longingly on the days when he was the oldest member in the band and not the youngest. He’d taken a little flack for playing with Juleka’s friends back in the day but at least they respected him.

* * *

“Look, they’re coming back,” Alya nudged her. “And he’s still looking at yoouuuu…”

The lead vocalist stepped up to the mic, pulling it off the stand. “Alright, we’re back and we’re pumped up to go. How about we take some requests from the crowd? Let’s see…” He paced for a moment and then crouched at the edge of the stage right in front of Marinette. “How about you, sweetheart? Anything you’d like to hear?” Marinette’s eyes widened, and she stammered for a moment. “C’mon, don’t be shy,” the singer coaxed. 

Blushing furiously, she named the first thing she could think of, which happened to be her favorite Jagged Stone song. “Oof, Jagged Stone.” Jean grinned and looked up at Luka. “That sounds like a challenge to me, Couffaine, you up for it?” 

Luka tossed his head, flicking his bangs out of his eyes, and grinned at his bandmate. “I can kill it if you guys can keep up.” He looked at Marinette and winked. “Good taste, babe.” 

Marinette buried her face in her hands and then in Alta’s shoulder. Alya patted her back comfortingly, and in the lull Marinette could hear her say teasingly, “It’s okay, ‘babe.’ Just relax and enjoy having a hot musician play just for you.”

“It’s not for me,” Marinette whined. 

At that moment Luka began to play, and Marinette lifted her head from Alta’s shoulder in surprise. The familiar opening rang beautifully out from the amp speakers, and when she looked up at Luka, he smiled at her like she was the only one there. She wasn’t sure what had changed, but somehow that charisma he had shown before was toned down and focused.  _ Not on me. It can’t be for me, that’s just… _ She pressed her hands to her chest over her pounding heart. 

He was good, she realized. He was really good. He had his own style that made the familiar song sound just that little bit different. He didn’t try to copy Jagged Stone’s frenetic approach, he was...smoother. More relaxed. It made for a subtle alteration in the tone of the song that she didn’t at all dislike. 

Well...if Alya was right and he wanted to impress her...he was doing a really good job.

* * *

Their set was over and Marinette and her friend had stayed down by the stage the whole time. Jean grabbed his arm. “I got your stuff, man, just go talk to her before you lose her in this crowd.”

Luka glanced at the crowd in the club, made a split second decision, and sat down on the edge of the stage, hanging his legs over the edge. “Hey, Marinette, I’m glad you could make it.” 

“It was great,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “You’re really good. I mean, the band is really good. And you, because you’re part of the band, uh—”

Her friend elbowed her. “Breathe, girl.”

Luka offered his hand. “I’m Luka, nice to meet you.”

“Alya,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m Marinette’s roommate, best friend, wingwoman,” she elbowed Marinette, “And occasional reset button when she gets too flustered to speak.” 

“Sounds like a big job,” Luka laughed. “Well, I’m really glad you could make it tonight. So, can I—” he winced as the DJ took over the music and the noise level skyrocketed. Giving up on speech, he slid down off the stage and offered Marinette his hand, tilting his head toward the backstage door. Marinette only hesitated a moment before putting her hand in his. She wrapped her other hand around Alya, and he led them back to the little green room backstage. All three of his bandmates were grinning, and Nino, who had joined them, was looking between them all with a confused expression.

“Sorry, it’s not much, but at least we can hear each other in here,” he said as he held the door for her. “Uh, these are my bandmates, Evan, Simon, and Jean, and Nino here does our sound.” 

Marinette gave a small wave as they chorused their hellos. Luka gave them a pointed look and everyone but Nino immediately became preoccupied with packing up their instruments. “So, we’re pretty much done here, can I buy you ladies a drink?”

“Actually,” Alya drawled before Marinette could answer, a finger tapping her lips as she studied the room. “I think I want...Nino to buy me a drink.” She cocked an eyebrow at the sound tech, whose eyes widened. 

“Me?” he said stupidly. Alya raised the other eyebrow in a silent  _ duh _ . “Well uh...yes ma’am,” Nino said with a slight shake of his head, getting to his feet among the hoots and whistles of the others with a flush on his face. Alya slipped her arm through his and practically dragged him back out to the club. “Have fun girl!” she called as she left.

Luka watched with some amusement, and then turned back to Marinette. “She’s ah, direct.”

Marinette made a slightly sour face and a helpless gesture. “That’s Alya.” 

“Well, I guess it’s just you and me then,” he said as if his heart weren’t going triple time at the words. “Shall we?” He offered his hand. “Or, if you give me a minute to pack up my stuff, there’s a diner down the street that’s a lot quieter.”

Marinette grinned and did an adorable little bounce-wiggle. “That sounds great. I’m kind of starving, and I’m not really that into the club scene.”

Luka smiled back at her. “Me neither, honestly. I’m just here for the music.”

“Whoa,” one of the guys stage whispered behind him. “I’ve only ever seen him look at his guitar like that.”

Luka sighed and closed his eyes. “Please ignore them.” His eyes snapped open again when put her hand on his arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s nice to know I don’t have the monopoly on embarrassing friends,” she said with a giggle. 


	3. First Fashion Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka wants to ask Marinette on a date, but she's so busy, he's going to have to come up with a different plan to spend time with her.

Technically, he hadn’t been on a date with Marinette yet. There was the day they met at the cafe, and the two hours they spent laughing and chatting over late night pancakes after his gig. Luka really wanted to see her again, and he wanted it to be a real date this time, but he couldn’t seem to get Marinette’s attention. Her texts were friendly, but hurried, with long delays between replies. He wondered if maybe she’d decided she wasn’t into him, but it didn’t seem that way. She just seemed...busy.

Finally, he swallowed his pride and asked Juleka if she knew what was up. 

“She’s crazy busy,” Juleka told him, not bothering to look up from the notebook she was scribbling in. “You know I’m modeling in that fashion show in a couple of weeks for the design students? Marinette’s got a bunch of pieces on that runway, she’s probably losing her mind trying to get it all ready. It’s part of her grade so she’s probably really stressed about it.”

“Oh.” Luka went back to his room and picked up his guitar. He played on automatic, staring at the window and thinking. Finally, Juleka pounded on his door. He called for her to come in and she stalked over to him. 

“That’s the fourth time you’ve played Smoke on the Water in the last hour,” Juleka grumbled, and shoved a piece of paper into his hand. “Here’s where she’s working. Go take her some coffee or something, she’ll probably put you up for sainthood.”

Luka looked at the paper hesitantly. “I don’t want to bother her if she’s working.”

“Don’t bother her. Just take her some coffee and say hi and leave. At least you won’t be pining anymore.”

“Pining?” Luka scoffed, but Juleka just rolled her eyes at him and left.

* * *

She needed to get up. No little gnomes were going to come finish all her work while she sat at this picnic table outside the building with her face planted on the tabletop.

“Hey.” 

Marinette turned her face where it lay on the table and blinked for a moment, then she shot straight up. “Luka!”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t, I just--I didn’t expect you.”

“Yeah, I tried to text but you weren’t answering. I’m lucky you were out here, I guess, I wouldn’t have known where to go if you’d been inside.” He looked a little uncomfortable, shifting his feet. “But Jules told me you’d been working here for days straight and I--well I was sort of in the neighborhood and I thought you might need a little pick-me-up?” Luka held out a steaming cup to her. Blinking, Marinette took it, and brightened as the scent of cinnamon and coffee hit her nose.

“Luka, you’re a lifesaver! I need this so bad!” 

All the discomfort disappeared from his stance and he grinned. “Glad I could help.” He gestured to the table. “May I?”

“Sure,” Marinette tipped her head slightly in invitation, too absorbed in her latte to really look at him. “You came at a good time, actually, I hit a bit of a wall and I thought I’d take a break, and then the table just looked so inviting…”

He chuckled as he sat down next to her with his back to the table and leaned on it with one elbow. “You have marks from the wood grain on your face.”

Marinette moaned. “I’ll be mortified about that later, I don’t have the energy right now.” She made a face. “I probably look like a wreck anyway, I don’t even know when the last time I actually brushed my hair was.”

“Deadlines suck, huh?” he sympathized. 

“Yep, and I picked a career full of them.” She sighed, and put her forehead down on the table again, covering her head with the arm that wasn’t holding tightly onto her coffee. “I’m so screwed.”

“Anything I can do to help? I mean, I’m not much good with a needle and I’d be hopeless with the design, but even if it’s just getting you coffee or food, or listening to you vent…”

Marinette smiled beneath her arm. “You’re so sweet, Luka.” Then she sighed, her face falling as she sat back up. “There’s just so much to do and I don’t know how I’ll get it done.” She put on her brave face and tried to smile at him. “But the thing about deadlines is, they come when they come, so I just have to make it until then and it’ll all be over one way or another.” She sighed and sipped her coffee. “It’ll be really exciting, if I don’t completely crash and burn,” she added. “It’ll be my first real fashion show with real models and everything. Is Juleka walking?”

“Yes, she said she was. Is she going to be wearing your clothes?”

Marinette shook her head. “I think she’s assigned to one of the other design students, her card wasn’t in my packet. It’s a shame, I like dressing Juleka. It’s always more fun to work with people who have a bit of their own personal style. I thought the same thing when I met you, actually.” She shut her mouth, and felt her cheeks redden. She hadn’t meant to say that.

Luka bit his lip and looked away, and finally chuckled. “I can’t think of any way to say I’d love for you to dress me without it sounding like a cheap pickup line,” he said.

Marinette smacked his arm lightly. “Don’t flirt with me when I’m tired.”

Luka’s grin widened and he leaned in a little. “Even if I bring you coffee first?”

Marinette laughed, covering her face for a moment and then dropping her hands to lean over and look him in the eye. “If you bring me coffee you can flirt as much as you want.”

“Deal. Same time tomorrow, right here?”

“Okay. For now I better get back in there.” Marinette gathered her things, unable to hide the smile that wouldn’t leave her face. “Thanks Luka. For the coffee and for cheering me up.”

* * *

It was clear from that first coffee run that he wasn’t going to get the date he wanted anytime soon. Marinette was stressed out and working hard on something that was clearly important to her, and Luka wasn’t about to get in her way. But he brought her coffee and occasionally a sandwich whenever he could, just to be able to spend a few minutes with her. Sometimes she barely had time to thank him before she got sucked back into her work, and sometimes they got to sit and chat a few minutes, and he would throw her a line and she would giggle about it. Once she forgot about him entirely, leaving him sitting at their picnic table with her cold coffee and a cookie that he eventually ate himself, but he didn’t take it personally. The point was, he was doing at least something to help her, and she always left with a smile afterwards.

One day he found her sprawled with her back to the table and her legs stretched out in front of her. “I’m done,” she said gleefully as he approached. “Mostly done, anyway, there are a bunch of small things to finish, but none of my models is going to be short an outfit, so I’m counting it a win.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I brought these, since we’re celebrating,” Luka chuckled, taking his usual place next to her and placing a box of macarons between them.

“Oh, Luka,” Marinette sighed, surprising him by reaching over to pat his hand. “One day I will make you some macarons and you will never buy these pale imitations again.”

Luka laughed. “Promises, promises. So, is the show is open to the public?”

“Well, the seating is limited, but since it’s outside, it’s effectively public.”

“So I could come if I wanted to? I’m really curious to see how those sketches in your notebook came to life.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “I thought you weren’t interested in fashion.”

Luka looked back at her with a slow smile and a twinkle in his deep eyes. “I’m interested in  _ you _ , Marinette.”

Her eyes widened and he wondered how she could possibly be so surprised about it at this point. “R-really?”

“Definitely. You didn’t notice?” Luka smiled. 

“I, um...I guess I did? But--well I’m always afraid of reading things wrong and I didn’t--I mean I don’t like to assume…”

“Okay,” Luka said, amused. “That’s fair.” He moved the box of substandard macarons from between them and slid across the bench towards her. “Then let me be absolutely clear, heartbreaker. I am very definitely interested in you in a very definitely romantic way, and as much fun as it’s been sharing friendly coffee over the last little while, I’d really like to take you on an actual date.” He turned his open hand palm up and rested it on his knee. “What do you think?”

She bit her lip, and put her hand in his, letting him lace their fingers together. “Will there be flirting?”

“Definitely.”

“I might need a few days to rest up then,” she teased.

Luka grinned. “I’ll bring the coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whee, I'm caught up. I couldn't resist a little nod to Reflekdoll.


	4. First Blush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the beginning really doesn't need to be here, I'll admit that, but it made me giggle, so I left it. Consider it a bonus scene, I guess?

“You’re distracted, man.”

“Hmm?” Luka looked up. 

“I mean, you’re usually intense when you play,” Evan said, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. “But you’re intense in a different way today, like your brain is somewhere else and you wish your body was too.”

Luka frowned. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“What’s up, Couffaine,” Jean grinned. “Hot date tonight?”

To his utter mortification, Luka blushed. Hard. He could feel the heat and knew there was no way he could play it off. 

“Oh my God,” Jean laughed hysterically. “He does! Look at that! I was half convinced that if you ever did get embarrassed you’d turn blue instead of red.”

“Congrats, man,” Evan said, making an admirable attempt to keep his laughter under control. Nobody coughed that much unless they had consumption, though.

Simon sighed and put his bass down on its stand. “And now we’re not going to get anything done, are we? Just spill it and get it over with, Luka, so we can get back to practice.”

Luka groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. “Fine. Yes, I have a date with Marinette tonight.”

“Oooh, how many does this make?” Jean wanted to know, waggling his eyebrows.

Luka rolled his eyes. “One. She’s been really busy and it took us a while to figure something out.”

“Where are you going?” 

Luka snorted. “Like I’m dumb enough to tell you that so you can show up and embarrass me.”

“You’re no fun,” Jean pouted.

“Your idea of fun is so questionable that your statement is worthless,” Simon commented, fiddling with his phone. 

“Are we going to rehearse or what?” Luka muttered, turning back to his guitar. 

* * *

Luka waited for Marinette at the bottom of the steps to her dorm, the fingers of his fret hand twitching against his thigh as he wished for probably the ten millionth time in his life that it was socially acceptable to constantly carry a guitar. He’d kept it simple tonight, black jeans and leather jacket over a deep blue button-up. Juleka had only rolled her eyes a little at him, which he took to mean that he looked acceptable, if predictable. It hadn’t occurred to him until he started going through his small closet that dating a fashion designer might demand a level of attention to his clothes that he’d never bothered with before. She’d said she liked his style though, hadn’t she, during one of their coffee chats? Either way, there wasn’t time to educate himself now.

He was being stupid, anyway, he didn’t expect Marinette to change for him and she probably wouldn’t want him to, either. Anyway, if things went the way he hoped, he’d have no problem letting Marinette...pick his clothes.

He refused to think about Marinette dressing him, since that immediately and unavoidably led to thoughts of her undressing him, and those were not the kinds of thoughts he needed to be having when she was coming down the stairs looking like she stepped right out of his daydreams (except for the exaggerated caution in her movements—Luka’s daydreams had not yet developed enough to incorporate the fact that Marinette was a total klutz). Luka had almost unconsciously expected her to wear pink, as she seemed to favor it, but the dress that swished around her knees was blue—his color blue, in fact, and he wondered if she had matched him on purpose. Blue looked really good on her, he reflected, but that thought was dangerous as well and he tried to focus on smiling at her and offering his hand as soon as she was in reach. She clung to him gratefully for the last couple of steps. 

“You look great,” he said as soon as she was safely on the ground. “Hi,” he added belatedly, for politeness sake.

“Hi,” she said, a little breathlessly, and the way her eyes lit up when she smiled at him made him weak in the knees. “Thanks, you do too.”

Something struck him and Luka stepped back from her, not letting go of her hand, to get a better look at her dress. “Wait—is this the dress from your book? The one we talked about the day we met?”

Marinette looked delighted. “Surprise. I wasn’t sure you’d notice.”

“How did you even have time?” Luka asked, lifting their hands over her head so that she turned underneath his arm. “It looks amazing.”

“I made time,” she said vaguely, not quite meeting his eyes as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Luka couldn’t help but remember his own words when he had looked at the drawing in her notebook. He felt it all the way down to the pit of his stomach as he looked at her. He could be holding his whole future in his hand right now in the form of small, rough fingers covered with still-red needle pricks and a bandage on the pinky. 

“Luka?” 

Luka snapped out of his reverie, shaking himself slightly. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Nothing important, but now I really want to know what you were thinking about.”

Heat crept up Luka’s face and he felt a flutter of panic, trying to find a way to combine truthful with romantic without crossing a line into _ way the hell too much for a first date _. “Just what we talked about, you know, in the cafe that day. Potential. Beginnings.” He dared to meet her eyes, the familiar shock now almost comfortable, familiar in the way it made his heart race and his breath stutter. “Inspiration,” he finished, his voice coming out a little deeper than he meant it to be. Marinette’s cheeks flared red, but she didn’t look away. Luka tugged her hand and she stepped a little closer. “We’re a pair, aren’t we, huh,” he grinned. “A couple of idiots blushing in the middle of the sidewalk.”

“At least it’s not just me this time,” Marinette replied with a little smirk that almost killed him on the spot. “So, where exactly are we going, Mr. Mysterious?” 

Luka moved her hand to the crook of his elbow, bringing her closer and getting them moving at the same time. “I have some friends in one of the a capella groups, they’re performing tonight in the courtyard by the main hall. If we go now we should have time to eat first, there’s a bunch of places on the way so we should be able to get pretty much anything we feel like—or we can take our time and get something to eat after, I don’t mind.”

She smiled and squeezed his arm lightly. “That sounds really nice.”

He grinned to himself. “It’s a start.”


	5. First Touch

“Come on, Marinette, you said you wanted to try. It won’t bite.” 

“I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about your guitar,” Marinette grumbled, seated beside Luka in the grass and eyeing his guitar warily. 

"It’ll be fine.” 

“I don’t want to break it,” Marinette fretted. “I’m such a klutz and it’s so important to you.”

Luka huffed a laugh. “I’m right here, Marinette, it’ll be _fine_. Here, why don’t we do this.” He shifted behind her a little, then lifted the guitar over her head and set it in her lap. Marinette squeaked, still convinced that one touch from her would destroy the precious instrument. “Alright, give me your hand.” He wrapped his hand around hers. “Take the pick,” he instructed, offering it to her with the other hand. “Hold it like this.” He manipulated her fingers under his own until she held the pick between fingers that he held in place. “Okay, now put your left hand on top of mine. Just like dancing on your dad’s feet, only with fingers.”

Marinette giggled, wrinkling her nose. “That’s a weird comparison. Ugh, your hand is too big, I can’t…”

Luka chuckled and selected an easier chord. “Better?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, don’t move them.” He gently slid his hand out from under hers and replaced it on top, pressing her fingers into the strings. “Let me know if it hurts your fingers,” he said softly, his face right beside her ear. “Your calluses are in different places than mine and I don’t want you to get too sore.” 

“I’m okay so far.” Marinette blew out a sigh. “I’m still afraid I’m going to break it, though.”

“If I’m that bad a teacher, I deserve a broken guitar. So we hold here and…” He guided her right hand in a slow strum down the strings. It was actually a good thing he was holding her hand. She wasn’t prepared for the resistance and the pick would have been knocked out of her fingers. Marinette adjusted quickly and the second strum was smoother. 

“Nothing broken yet.” Luka leaned around her to smile. She looked up to smile back at him and then jerked back a little when she realized how close they were. Too bad, he would have liked to kiss her, but clearly she wasn’t ready. “You want to try it by yourself?”

Marinette bit her lip, and then sighed. “Okay.”

“Marinette, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said gently. “Really, it’s okay if you’d just rather not.” He released her hands, placing his on the grass behind him.

“No,” she said, “I want to. This is a huge part of you, after all. I want to at least know what it feels like.”

“You don’t have to change for me, Marinette. You don’t have to play just because I do.”

“I’m not,” Marinette said, pressing her fingers carefully into the strings with a level of concentration that would have been more in line with diffusing a bomb. “I just want to know more about you, that’s all.” The tip of her tongue poked out of her mouth as she looked away from the fretboard and down at her pick hand. She strummed carefully down as he had shown her, and the chord came out only slightly mangled.

“Not bad,” he told her, trying not to laugh at the way she lit up at her accomplishment. She did a cute little wiggle and strummed again.

“Can you show me another one?” she asked, and he moved her fingers to a different chord. She strummed that one a couple of times, each one not quite right but clearer than before.

“Okay, my fingers are getting tired now,” she giggled. She wiggled her fingers. “Between baking and sewing I thought my hands were pretty strong, but that’s really kind of hard.”

“It takes practice, that’s all, just like anything else. I probably wouldn’t be any better at baking or sewing.” 

She smiled and leaned back into him, and reached up to brush her fingers across his cheek. His breath caught and his heart stuttered at that light touch. Up until now it had felt like he was the one always doing the touching in their fledgeling relationship. She seemed to welcome it and never rebuffed him, but he couldn’t remember her initiating contact like that before. “Thanks for letting me try, Luka. Now please take this thing before something happens to it, I absolutely do not want to be the reason your guitar randomly bursts into flames or something.”

“I don’t even want to know how you think that would happen,” Luka said, lifting the guitar and twisting to place it back in the open case beside them. He turned back to Marinette, and after only a moment’s hesitation, slipped his arms around her waist. “You want to just hang out here a while longer?”

She leaned back into him and put her hands over his arms. “Yeah, it’s a nice day. We ought to enjoy it since it’ll start getting cooler soon.”

“I’ll keep you warm, babe.” He grinned at the flush that went up her neck. “See? Feeling warmer already, aren’t you.”

“Stop teasing me.” 

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggled a bit with this one. I wrote something different and then threw it out and went with this, so here we go.


	6. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't how either of them planned for it to go, but sometimes you just get tired of waiting.

Luka was easy to be around. He liked her and she liked him and that made her kind of a mess, but he was relaxed and patient and quick to back off any time she got overwhelmed. He made his feelings clear enough even for her insecure heart, but he didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry. Their dates were always peppered with “can I” and “is this okay,” and she appreciated it, even if she sometimes went home at night and hid in her blankets and admitted to herself that she wished he would just kiss her already, or that she were bold enough to ask him.

Nothing seemed different as she sat next to him on the couch in the apartment he shared with Juleka and Rose, half turned towards him and gesturing with her hands as she told him about the absolute travesty of fashion one of her professors had had the audacity to defend that morning.

So she wasn’t expecting him to cut her off mid-sentence with his lips pressed to hers. 

Apparently Luka didn’t expect it either, because he pulled back quickly and blurted “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I mean, I did, I was thinking about it, but I shouldn’t have surprised you like that.” For a moment she just stared at him and Luka swallowed nervously.

Marinette was sweet and shy and, he’d concluded some time ago, not very experienced. He’d wanted to kiss her since the day they met, but she was easily embarrassed and constantly flustered and he could never quite settle on the right moment. Then she’d been sitting there confident and animated and unusually articulate with her eyes lit up and two light pink spots on her cheeks and somehow fantasizing about kissing her became actually kissing her and now he was holding his breath waiting for the fallout, because she didn’t seem like the kind of girl who appreciated being jumped on out of the blue.

So he definitely wasn’t expecting her to put her hand on his cheek and pull him back into her so  _ she _ could kiss  _ him _ .  _ No harm no foul _ , he thought giddily, before conscious thought took a back seat as he buried his hands in her hair and tilted his head to guide her deeper.

Something hard bounced off the back of his head, making him break away from Marinette with an undignified yelp. “Ow, Juleka, what the hell?” He twisted to glare at his sister, standing by the door with her arms folded. 

“You’re the one who made the rule about making out on the couch, you hypocrite.”

“We were not making out, we were just—oh.” He caught sight of Marinette's ruffled hair, red cheeks, blown pupils, and bruised lips, took note of the lingering taste of cinnamon coffee in his own mouth, and concluded they must have been kissing a lot longer than he’d realized. “Yeah, I guess we were.” His grin was unrepentant. “Sorry.”

“Kill me,” Marinette moaned, covering her face with her hands.

Luka chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed, Juleka’s the reason we have rules about makeouts in the common areas. Trust me, that was pretty tame compared to some of the things I’ve walked in on.” 

“I know where you sleep,” Juleka grumbled. “Get a room or take her home.”

Luka rolled his eyes. “I probably should take you home,” he said regretfully as Juleka’s door closed.

Marinette still had her hands on her face and she was sure she was red as a tomato. It wasn’t just that she’d been caught kissing her friend’s brother, either. She was afraid to look at Luka and see what he thought of her. After all, she’d only had a few short relationships in high school with boys who didn’t know anymore about kissing and dating than she did, and Luka—well she didn’t know anything for sure but Luka was cool and  _ older _ and popular and she was sure—

“Hey,” he said gently, putting a hand on her wrist. Not pulling it away, just...resting there. “Are you okay? Marinette, you look upset. Talk to me, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I went too far, I thought—I thought you were into it, but—“

“No,” she said quickly, “I mean, I was, you didn’t—you didn’t do anything wrong. I liked it.” She peeked at him through her fingers. “Did...did you?”

“Is that what you’re freaking out about?” Luka’s laugh sounded relieved. “Hell yeah, I liked it. I like  _ you _ , Marinette. I’ve been dying to kiss you, I just—“ He reached up to ruffle his hair and Marinette realized with a start that  _ he _ was blushing. “I know I can be kind of intense and I didn’t want to rush you into anything. Which is kind of what happened and now you’re freaking out on my couch.” He sighed. 

“I’m not,” she sighed shakily, “I mean I was, but—“ She took a deep breath and took her hands from her face. “I’m okay. I just...I don’t exactly have a lot of makeout experience. I...have no idea what I’m doing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said kindly, the softness in his eyes making her knees weak. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek, then behind her ear. “I’m so into you, Marinette,” he sighed, nose still against her skin. “I’m not going to run for the hills just because our first kiss got a little sloppy.”

“Sloppy?” Marinette gasped, outraged, and Luka laughed as she hit his shoulder. “Just because I wasn’t expecting you to shove your—Oh my God, I am not having this conversation, I take everything back, I’m totally going to freak out now.”

“Don’t,” Luka said, still laughing, catching her hand and lacing their fingers together. “C’mon, Marinette, this is how it’s supposed to be. Nothing’s ever perfect the first time, you kinda have to have a sense of humor while you’re figuring it out.” Marinette pouted. “But,” Luka murmured, the sudden deep tone of his voice making her pulse spike. “You’re a really fast learner, Marinette.” He brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Can I walk you back to your place and then maybe before I go I can kiss you the way I should have the first time?”

Marinette grumbled as he stood and pulled her up off the couch.

She managed to stay mad at him until he pulled her into the shadows by her building, cupped her cheek in one hand and slipped his arm around her waist, and kissed her so slowly and tenderly that she expected violins to play and rose petals to fall from the sky. “Better?” he asked softly, lips still brushing hers. 

“It’s a start,” she replied breathlessly, and he laughed and kissed her again. 


	7. Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is really not the ideal way to meet your girlfriend's parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this one a bit early, because I have Stuff to do tomorrow and it was already written anyway. Hopefully there aren't any mistakes I missed, but if so, I'll fix them when I get back.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's read and left kudos and especially commented, especially especially those of you that have commented multiple times, I hugely appreciate it.

Okay, this wasn’t ideal, but maybe it wasn’t totally awful. His hands had been in appropriate places, one skimming her arm and the other cradling her neck as he kissed her, and they were mostly concealed from pedestrians on the sidewalk by the heavy cement steps leading up to Marinette’s door. However, technically they were still in public, and since he was on his way to a gig at a particularly eccentric club he was was pretty heavily made up and punked out. 

So yeah, maybe not the ideal way to meet your girlfriend’s parents. To make it worse he hadn’t immediately registered the discreet cough that had interrupted them, which made Marinette suddenly pulling away from him a little messier than it might have been if he’d had enough warning to get his tongue back in his own mouth before she jerked back. 

“Maman! Papa! You’re early,” Marinette beamed, wiping her mouth quickly with the back of one hand. She was blushing but that was nothing new, she blushed a lot. Other than that she didn’t seem overly concerned, which at least kept Luka from panicking when she turned to him. “Um, this is Luka. Luka, this is my mom, Sabine, and my dad, Tom.”

“Ah, hi, nice to meet you.” He coughed and waved slightly from behind Marinette’s shoulder. At least her mother looked more amused than anything else. Her dad, not so much, unsurprisingly. God she’d never told him her father was so  _ big _ . 

_ This is not ye olden days, Marinette is an adult, he doesn’t get a say _ , Luka reminded himself. 

“Marinette’s told us a lot about you, Luka,” Mrs. Dupain-Cheng (wait, was it Mrs. Cheng? He’d have to ask Marinette later) smiled. “If you’d like you’re welcome to join us for dinner.

“I wish I could, ma’am, but I’m on my way to play with my band right now. I just stopped by to see Marinette for a few minutes before I had to go, since I knew she’d be busy visiting with you for the next few days.”

“How about lunch tomorrow, then, if you’re free?”

Luka hesitated, glancing at Marinette. “I don’t want to intrude on your family time.” They’d only been dating a couple of months, he didn’t know how she felt about having him meet her parents. 

Marinette smiled at him. “I’d like it if you came.” 

Luka’s discomfort melted away under that smile, and he smiled back at her with more affection than he realized. “Then how can I refuse?” Then he blinked and turned his attention back to her mother. “Thank you, ma’am, I’d like that. Marinette can text me the details.”

“Great,” her father boomed, and Luka only just managed not to flinch. “Well, why don’t we go, Marinette? We have reservations.”

Marinette started to turn away and Luka saw a smear of blue on the corner of her mouth. 

“Oh, wait, babe, you’ve got...” He caught her arm and fished a packet of makeup wipes out of his pocket. “You’ve got some of my lipstick on your face,” he told her quietly, hyper-aware of her parents watching them. He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up. “This stage makeup is super hard to get off if you don’t have the right cleaner.” She let him wipe her lips and the spot right under the hinge of her jaw. “Sorry,” he grinned. “Next time I’ll wait till I get to the club to put it on.”

Marinette giggled and kissed his cheek. “Thanks. Knock ‘em dead.”

He opened his mouth and nearly choked when he realized what he was about to say. He managed to get out a strangled, “Bye, beautiful” that he wasn’t sure she heard as she was walking away. He took a breath and let it out slowly, unable to believe he’d almost blurted “Love you, babe” for the first time, as she was leaving,  _ in front of her parents. _

He got to the club on autopilot, and then had to put the whole incident in the back of his mind so he could perform. 

Which, like many things in his life recently, was a little harder than it could have been since he’d forgotten to check his own face before he arrived, and his smeared lipstick earned him a lot of teasing from Jean and Evan and a surprisingly serious reminder to blot after applying from Simon.

* * *

“So,” he sighed over the phone the next morning. It was way too early to be up after a gig, but nerves got him out of bed early enough to call Marinette before they were supposed to meet up. “How deep in trouble am I with your dad right now?” 

“Not too much? I think he thinks you’re one of those wild college experiences I’m supposed to have while I’m gone.”

Luka frowned. “So he thinks I’m just a fling?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“Do you think that?” he blurted, and then bit his tongue. He hadn’t exactly meant to ask, but he didn’t really want to take it back, either. “I’m not asking if you see yourself marrying me or anything like that,” he added when she didn’t answer right away. “But I mean—if you don’t see us lasting beyond the semester then that’s kind of something I need to know.”

“I—to tell the truth, I haven’t been thinking that hard about it. When I think too far in the future—not about you, but about anything really—I tend to picture all these crazy scenarios and I get all upset, so I’ve kind of gotten in the habit of, um, not thinking too far ahead?” He heard her blow out a frustrated breath. “I don’t have an end date on our relationship, Luka. I don’t—I mean I—“ He could hear her getting upset and hastened to cut in. 

“Okay, okay,” he said soothingly. “It’s okay, Marinette, that’s good enough for me. I just...I want you to know that I’m serious about us and this definitely isn’t a fling for me. So as long as we’re on the same page about that, I’m good.”

“Okay,” she sniffled, and Luka felt sick.

“Oh, Marinette, baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No, it’s okay. They’re good tears. I guess...I didn’t realize I was worried about it until you said that. That you’re serious about me. I’m sorry, I’m stupid, I should know better…”

“Marinette, sweetheart, I’m serious as a heart attack,” Luka said softly, gripping the phone tighter as it nearly vibrated in his shaking hand. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this over the phone but he couldn’t have her thinking like that. “I love you and I’m in this for the long haul.” He took a breath and then added, “So please tell me what I need to know to impress your parents today because after last night I’m kinda freaking out about it. I know they say there’s no second chance to make a first impression but literally anything would probably be an improvement at this point.” He said it to lighten the tension and so she wouldn’t feel pressured to answer him, but it only half worked.

Because she did laugh, but then she said, “You’ll be fine, they’re going to love you because I love you, so stop worrying.”

“Really?” It came out breathless, which wasn’t surprising, since he felt like he might pass out.

“Really,” she replied with a smile in her voice. “Really really, Luka.”

“Thanks, babe. I’ll see you soon, okay?” He paused, and added, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The answer was immediate, and just as earth-shattering as the first time. “Bye, Luka.”

“Bye, Marinette,” he said softly, and made sure he hung up before he whooped at the top of his lungs and threw himself back on his bed.

His phone rang a second later and he picked it up without thinking, still in his euphoric haze.

“Are you dead?” His sister’s sleep-muddled voice barely made an impression.

“She loves me,” he breathed.

“Oh my God, it is too early for this, I’m hanging up before I vomit. Scare me like that again before noon and I will gut you in your sleep.”

“You’re the best, Jules,” he sighed happily. "Wait, did you seriously call me from the other side of the apartment?"

“No way was I getting out of bed if you weren't dying. Hanging up now.”

He dropped the phone back on his nightstand. Five more minutes, he told himself. Five more minutes and then he was going to pull himself together and get ready to meet Marinette’s parents, and he wanted to do it right this time.

Because come hell or high water, he was going to marry that girl someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming along for the ride! This is the end of this little story, I'm not going to do the rest of the month because I have some longer fics I really want to focus on. I'm kind of terrible with finishing things that are more than one chapter, which I absolutely hate, so I like to get stuff mostly written before I start posting. So stay tuned, and hopefully I'll be back soon.


End file.
